


Birthday suits

by BeBunny



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-02
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:18:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeBunny/pseuds/BeBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon stripping on stage is funny, except for how it's also kinda hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday suits

Title: Birthday suits.  
Author:Bebunny  
Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from these guys, as evidenced by me not owning them.  
Warnings: mild kink I guess, a little face slapping...nothing that's not apparently already canon.

~**~

The buzz offstage is funny; none of them can stop laughing, even when Zack herds them down the hall into the greenroom where Brendon hops ridiculously on one leg to slip his loose jeans on.  
Dallon’s got the biggest shit-eating grin plastered on his face and Spencer is trying not to mirror it. He just raises an eyebrow whenever one of them catches his eye.  
“Oh man, what a rush” huffs Ian, his laughter is quieter now, and they can hear the fans screaming still.  
“There’s no way in hell you’re going out tonight, any of you after that stunt.” Zack growls. “You’ll get fucking jumped.”  
Brendon shakes his head, “I swear I won’t dodge you tonight.” He grins.  
Zack looks wary. “I’m watching you; you’re heading for the bus, all of you, right now.”  
His tone is final and they don’t argue, just grab their shit and head downstairs. They’re on their way to a hotel anyway tonight, they can bullshit each other about who owes who what when they get there. It’s not far from the venue.  
Brendon slips his arm through Spencer’s as they head down the hall, he doesn’t bother with a shirt and he can feel how warm Spencer is under the cotton.  
~**~  
The four of them crowd into Spencer’s room and Dallon flicks the TV on, for background noise. Brendon is making some story up about how Ian was all over him all night, and Ian was giving just as much back, about how Brendon couldn’t keep his eyes of his ass. It’s all bullshit, except for how it isn’t and when Spencer calls them out it’s barely even a surprise.  
“Fuck’s sake,” he laughs, “Show us then.”  
Ian’s eyes grow a little wide, but to all intents and purposes Spencer just dared Brendon and in no universe does that ever end in the front man backing down.  
Brendon’s expression is defiant, almost petulant as he meets Spencer’s gaze and then in one smooth motion he grab’s Ian’s chin and presses their lips together. For a second Ian doesn’t move, but they’re skin to skin, chest to chest where neither of them bothered to redress and when Brendon bites at his lower lip he can’t help but melt into it a little.  
Dallon’s sharp intake of breath reminds them they’re being watched and they break apart, a little breathless. Spencer just looks amused.  
Ian looks like he’s taken something, a little doped out and he grins sloppily at Dallon and shrugs. “Tastes good.” He says, and falls back on the bed.  
“Yeah?” Dallon asks, his mouth twitching up a little at the corner. Brendon’s got his full attention now and he’s fucked if he’s gonna back down if Ian didn’t.  
Brendon crosses the space between the bed and the shitty hotel armchair that Dallon’s perched in and folds himself into Dallon’s lap. He leans his mouth down to Dallon’s ear and his breath is tickling the inner curve when he mouths “Yeah...” into it. It’s an invitation and not one that’s a dare or fucking around. Suddenly Dallon very very much wants to know what Brendon tastes like.  
Licking his lips he tilts his head up to meet Brendon and the tips of their tongues brush up against each other. It sends a bolt of electricity straight to Dallon’s dick and he wriggles in place.  
Ian’s rolled onto his front on the bed, watching Brendon and Dallon with his chin in his hands and kicking his ankles in the air. It’s Spencer again that surprises them, nudging Ian over and sitting beside him, running his hands over Ian’s back. It makes Ian hum, and Spencer grins.  
“You can’t let them have all the fun.” Spencer points out, and shamelessly tugs on Ian’s belt. There’s no resistance, Ian lifts up his hips and Spencer strips him in a fluid sweep, boxers and pants in one. Dallon cocks his head and looks at Brendon, who’s pouting slightly.  
“Well Spence got a naked showoff, I’m jealous!” He says, and Brendon’s on his feet in seconds, clumsily stripping off his jeans in an echo of the ungainly stripping on stage earlier that night. Determined not to be left behind or called a pussy.  
He returns to his seat in Dallon’s lap and now there’s skin everywhere. Dallon can’t keep his fingers from skittering over the fine curve of Brendon’s hipbones. There’s a dip there, a hollow that the pads of his thumbs fit perfectly into. He very carefully keeps his hands away from Brendon’s erection. They haven’t upped the ante that much yet and he’s not sure if it’s gonna go that far.  
Spencer seems to be calling the shots though, which is of little surprise. His palms are kneading into Ian’s shoulders and making him moan, it’s not quite sexual, but close enough. Spencer can see Dallon’s not going to close the gap, can see he’s not made a move to touch any more of Brendon and yet again he pushes the bar higher, he’s almost impatient about it, apart from the fact that he’s clearly loving being like some kind of sexual conductor or something. Leave it to Spencer, he dictates their rhythm on and off the stage it seems.  
He stands and strips unceremoniously, beckoning for Ian to follow him. Dallon almost feels ashamed that he’s clothed in some perverse reversal of modesty, but his view of Brendon’s navel and the softly defined muscles along his belly and hips is awesome, and he doesn’t have any desire to interrupt it yet. Brendon is watching Spencer quietly, pushing into Dallon’s touch.  
Spencer kisses Ian, almost gently and then with almost as much care pushes down on his shoulders to guide him to the floor. “You think Brendon tasted good,” He murmurs “Just wait.”  
Ian is eager and when Spencer sits on the edge of the bed he needs little encouragement to move closer and sink his mouth over Spencer’s cock, eliciting a moan than makes Brendon’s cock twitch. Spencer’s sigh of approval is clearly what Ian was looking for, he hums in satisfaction and reaches his hand up to circle the base of Spencer’s cock, meeting his lips with each thrust.  
Dallon’s done with not being naked, he pushes at Brendon until he gets the idea and slides off his lap, rocking impatiently from foot to foot. When Dallon pulls his cock from the confines of his boxers he actually has to hold Brendon off until he can free his foot from the tangle of his pants.  
Brendon’s breath is hot and wet on his thighs and when he lets him go his lips are all over him, until finally he lets Dallon’s length slide past them into his mouth. It’s impossible not to make an extremely undignified noise and Spencer’s laugh is loud in the room. It makes Ian giggle and Spencer grabs a handful of his hair, pulling his head back.  
“You’re not paying enough attention to my cock!” Spencer says jovially, as though Ian wasn’t writhing in breathless pleasure against his hand. “Hey!” Spencer follows up, “Hey you hear me?” Ian’s eyes roll open and he nods, pulling his hair tighter in Spencer’s grip. “Yeah, whatever.” He drawls. Spencer moves his other hand to grip Ian’s jaw, and then, he taps the side of Ian’s face lightly a couple of times with his palm, not hard, like he's trying to wake him up. It surprises Dallon. He gets the edge of a sense that maybe they’ve done this before, maybe not. He moans as Brendon’s tongue swipes across the tip of his cock and he gets an image of Spencer braced against the wall of the poky bathroom on the bus, Ian on his knees, or Brendon. Fuck.  
“Pay attention.” Spencer says, and guides Ian’s head back down.  
Dallon can feel his orgasm building, his breath is coming in short shallow hitches and Brendon his beginning to use his hands. He starts to twist on the upstroke and it’s Spencer’s gaze that Dallon meets as he cries out and stripes white across Brendon’s tongue and cheek. For a moment, he’s mildly embarrassed that he was the first to come, then he realises that all it really does is leave him free to enjoy the show.  
Spencer’s finger’s crook up to beckon Brendon over and clambers onto the bed. Their kiss is languid and obscene, Dallon knows Spencer can taste him on Brendon’s tongue. Spencer’s expression is unreadable as he looks over to where Dallon is sitting a moment later.  
Spencer pushes Brendon onto his back on the bed and motions for Dallon to sit beside him. Tugging Ian to his feet he pushes at him gently. “Another cock for you to suck.” He says cheerily as Ian kneels over Brendon, ass in the air. Brendon tips his head up to Dallon as Ian’s mouth closes over his cock, and he moans into the kiss. One hand resting gently on Dallon’s cheek the other snaking fingers through Ian’s tangled hair.  
It doesn’t register for a moment what Spencer is up to until Dallon realises that he’s gone for his nightbag. The pop of a lube bottle top makes Ian’s eyes snap open, but he doesn’t stop sucking.  
Spencer’s fingers are long and slim, and he clearly knows exactly how to use them, Dallon can’t take his eyes off Ian’s face as Spencer caresses over his ass, then probes at him. Although he can’t see, Dallon can tell from Spencer’s movements and Ian’s sharp intake of breath and the second that his mouth goes slack that Spencer has pressed a finger inside. Brendon keens and tightens his grip in Ian’s hair to remind him of what he was doing.  
When the second finger goes in Ian’s breath quickens, and Spencer murmurs encouragement, tells him not to stop, his words full of filthy praise. Dallon’s a little in awe. He’s never seen anything like this, and somehow he can’t quite catch his breath when Spencer rolls on a condom and slicks himself up with a couple of squirts from the bottle.  
“Fuck Spence..are you gonna...?” Dallon breathes.  
Brendon giggles into Dallon’s shoulder, and bucks his hips up against Ian’s touch. “If you bite down,” he warns, “I’ll kick your ass!”  
Ian’s reply is incoherent but when Spencer pushes in, letting his head roll back as he bottoms out Ian’s stills completely, albeit panting slightly. Brendon strokes his along the stubble on his jaw and when Spencer begins to thrust slowly and Ian acclimatises he begins to work on Brendon’s cock like he’s looking for release. Brendon can’t hold on long, he’s grasping at Dallon, and Dallon alternates between watching Spencer’s knuckles, white on Ian’s hips, and letting Brendon suck greedily on his bottom lip, gasping into his mouth.  
Brendon comes before Spencer, and cries out, gripping Dallon’s arm. Ian lets his head drop onto Bredon’s belly until Spencer hauls him upright. With Ian pressed against his chest he only has to reach down and circle Ian’s cock with his hand, fingers still slick with lube. He times his strokes with his thrusts and Ian loses all coherence, mouthing wordlessly as Spencer fucks roughly into him. Brendon and Dallon don’t get long to watch, they come within seconds of each other. Spencer’s grip tightens on Ian as he grunts through his climax, letting Ian’s come mingle with the lube on his hands.  
Bonelessly Ian collapses on top of Brendon. For a long moment no one says anything until Brendon, never one for silences, comfortable or otherwise finally breaks it.  
“Fuck, we should be porn stars or something.”  
They laugh, because that’s what they’ve always done, and when Dallon makes a disgusted noise and says he’s heading for the shower Ian pipes up. “I’ll join you,” he says cheerfully, “We’re so not done yet.”


End file.
